Djokovic Slays the King at Roland Garros

Bill Simons

One was born by the sea on a Mediterranean island. The other grew up on a Balkan mountain. One was guided by an uncle who insisted he play left-handed. The other was trained by a woman who insisted he read poetry and listen to classical music. For all their differences – Señor Nadal, left-handed, built like a Steeler linebacker and armed with a forehand that bites like a cobra, Nole, right-handed, with sinewy limbs that twist like a gluten-free Coney Island pretzel and a laser-like return of serve that even Agassi or Connors would envy – Rafa Nadal and Novak Djokovic are attached at the hip.

Fierce, focused and dominant, the two have collected 38 Slams, reigned as No. 1 for 533 weeks and, along with a fellow named Federer, have won 56 of the last 67 Slams. Heading into the final, the king of clay had won 105 of his 107 matches at Roland Garros. The baron of hard courts is 82-8 at the Australian Open. Rarely does either of them beat his prime rival on the other’s preferred surface.

Their clash today was one of the most anticipated semifinals in tennis history. It was their second meeting in a month (Nadal beat Djokovic in the Rome final), and their 58th meeting overall. Nole led 29-28, but Rafa dominated him on clay 19-7.

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It’s simple. Warm-up groups should be good, brief, take a nice bow and get off the stage fast. But before the Nadal vs. Nole, GOAT vs. GOAT dream semi that everyone was craving, the Next Gen duo of Tsitsipas and Zverev had the audacity to play a captivating marathon that drew our attention. At first it seemed that Tsitsipas, who had won more matches than anyone this year, would be headed to his first Grand Slam final. The young phenom, who’d won this year in Monte Carlo and Lyon, swept the first two sets over Zverev. But the German remained composed, became more aggressive, served with more venom – and was lucky. He barely touched the ball as he went for a fierce overhead that trickled off his racket and became a dropshot winner. As he began an epic comeback from two sets down, the crowd was watching his every move. “He’s gulping in the air, the sun’s shining down,” commented Radio Roland Garros. “The sweat is glistening on the arms of Zverev as he bounces the balls and settles himself in.”

Stoked by the anger he felt over a line call dispute, the German, famous for his shortfalls, evened the battle at two sets all. Playing with confidence and seemingly in control, he grabbed the first three points of the final set, but he couldn’t break. Then he was broken in the fourth game. Sasha managed to save four match points, but young Tsitsipas, unlike his Greek compatriot Maria Sakkari, hit an ace wide to the vast open court on his fifth match point, leaving Zverev alone in the shadows. Unlike yesterday, there would be no Greek tragedy today. Stefanos would be going to his first final, the youngest man to reach a Grand Slam final since Andy Murray in 2010. “Training is the cake,” noted Robbie Koenig, “but belief is the icing, and sometimes a thin smear of frosting can make all the difference. Today it was belief. He had won so many matches this season, and played so well on clay. His heart was the determining factor.”

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How do you do the seemingly  impossible? The experts scrubbed the data, scoured the scouting reports and reviewed the tapes. But how do you dethrone the king? Force him into diagonal patterns. Break his rhythm. Go wide to his forehand to get to his backhand. Take your chances. Bring him to net. Be patient. Get to his legs. Wear him down. And then there is the old regular: hit each and every one of your shots on the line.

Commentator Gigi Salmon noted, “Deep clouds are peppering the Parisian sky with wide variety.” But there was no variety on Court Philippe-Chatrier. Nadal was on fire, blasting shots to every corner. Nothing, not even the No. 1 player in the world, could counter him. As he had done in last year’s final, Nadal raced to a commanding 5-0 lead. “Here,” noted Jim Courier, “is a relentless brutality that has its own beauty.”

Djokovic and his fans were in shock. His coach stared blankly, his wife trembled. It seemed that her man would, as in last year’s final, again be humbled. But Novak is made of Serbian steel. He has climbed every tennis height. Grit is his coin. Few others so relish the battle. He bent low, dug deep and rebounded strong. First he held serve to get on the board 5-1. Then he broke and held, before dropping the first set 6-3.

But the Nadalian spell had been broken. Nole battled to steer clear of Rafa’s howitzer forehand, he won five of six games and raced to a 3-0 second-set lead. Hitting out, he imposed his cross-court groundies and – get this – managed to win a set off the man who had only lost 27 sets in his 17-year Roland Garros career.

Then came a set for the ages. The two greatest gladiators became locked in battle.

Bash, stretch, slide, recover, sprint, battle, pivot, blast. The set had everything. A let chord backhand winner by Rafa. Novak blasted a backhand skyhook overhead that Jimmy Connors would admire. There were around-the-post stabs that astounded, delicious dropshots, absurdly fine forehands and a desperate lob that dropped on the line. Break points were as common as baguettes at a left bank café. Nadal had six, but could only convert two. Djokovic had eight, and also only converted two.

Crackling with intensity, every point was a battle. Rafa’s down-the-line forehand punished. Djokovic attacked Rafa’s wavering serve. His backhand was a lethal wand. We saw his fluid magic. No one morphs defense into offense like the 18-Slam champion.

One’s mind was flooded with questions. Is this the greatest set of all time, or the best clay court battle in memory? Could this epic become the greatest match since Nadal-Federer at Wimbledon in 2008?

Rafa the king had his chances. Nole bent, but he would not break. Nadal could not rule, and Nole would not yield. With a set point in hand, Djokovic hit an unretrievable drop shot after a grueling exchange of groundstrokes. The French chanted, the Serbs roared, the players grunted – there would be a pivotal third-set tiebreak. But Rafa, the man of the moment, began with a double fault. Still, he fought back. Then, trailing 4-3, the Spaniard, who possesses the finesse of a matador, had the simplest of forehand volleys to make. But, hit off balance, the simple shot he’d made a thousand times flew long. King Rafa looked like a pauper.

Soon, Novak would finish the 97-minute third set with a 7-4 tiebreak win to go up 3-6, 6-3, 7-6. Now, for French fans, all would be lost: the 11 PM curfew would empty the stadium. But somehow the rule was bent, the fans remained, and they chanted loud in appreciation of the French president: “Thank you, Macron! Thank you, Macron!”

Novak raised his game and he never looked back. After suffering an early break, the man who likes to meditate by the Grand Canyon created a grand divide as he took advantage of Nadal’s far more modest second serve and tiring groundies. The bull was wounded – the Serb smelled blood. He won 24 of the last 30 points and six games in a row to rise to the occasion 3-6, 6-3, 7-6 (7-4) 6-2.

Nadal would later speak of his lapses. “These kinds of mistakes can happen. But if you want to win, you can’t make these mistakes. So that’s it. Well done for him. Have been a good fight out there. I try my best, and today was not my day.”

For his part, Nole said, “This was the best match that I was part of ever in Roland Garros…Playing my biggest rival on the court where he has had so much success…[This is] just one of these nights and matches that you will remember forever….Each time you step on the court with him, you know that you have to climb Mt. Everest.”

Today Djokovic reached a daunting summit. He achieved the hardest thing there is to do in sports. He beat Rafa at Roland Garros. But there will be little rest for the man from the Serbian mountains. Sunday, in his effort to win his second French Open and his 19th major, he will have to climb another mountain – a tall Greek one they call Mount Tsitsipas.